


Slim Stiles and the Seven Eleven Guy

by nerdfightingwhovian



Series: Slim Stiles 'Verse [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 7-Eleven, Alternate Universe - Convenience Store, Alternate Universe - Grocery Store, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Alternate Universe-7/11, And scares Derek, Angst, Angst and Humor, But Jackson is still an asshole, But Stiles gets a speech, Crack, Crack Fic, Crack and Angst, Derek Has Issues, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Constipation, First Date, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Gaelic Storm, Hiatus, Human!Derek, Jackson listens to Stiles, Just pure crack, M/M, On Hiatus, Selective hearing Stiles, Slim Jim and the Seven Eleven Girl, Slim Jims, Song fic, Stiles crushing on Derek, Supportive Scott, WIP, While Laura lurks, as requested, like an actual asshole, part of a series, slurpees, so is Derek, why did i even write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-08 07:17:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1129860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdfightingwhovian/pseuds/nerdfightingwhovian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chapter 1: In which Stiles is crushing hard on the 7-Eleven clerk. So he goes in every day to get his junk food fix and to just stare. When Stiles is 18 and no longer jail-bait, he makes a move. So Stiles asks Derek out on a date, but when Derek responds, Stiles has selective hearing. </p><p>Chapter 2: In which Derek has issues with self-esteem, and he just can't break through his walls and say "yes" to Stiles. He knows Stiles will be great for him, but he just can't get over the thought that maybe he won't be good for Stiles. </p><p>Plot based off the Gaelic Storm song found <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LU3QksH9EZA&feature=kp"> here </a> but tailored to fit Stiles and Derek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stiles POV

**Author's Note:**

> Un-betaed, so any mistakes are mine. As with all my fics, criticisms and comments are welcome. Be forewarned, there is cursing, and a glancing mention of a pink vibrator, but that is only to make Scott uncomfortable. Also, Stiles gets stood up, and is embarrassed by it, but is saved from utter humiliation because Scott is awesome and Lydia has ultimate control over Jackson. As said in the summary, the plot is based off the Gaelic Storm song "Slim Jim and the Seven Eleven Girl", so if you have a chance, go listen to it, it's amazing.  
> Also, I might be persuaded to write selected pieces for their future, because that stuff is always fun to write.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is from Stiles's POV, and is much crackier than Derek's POV.

There were specific reasons Stiles went to the 7-Eleven down just down the street from his house and none of them were the flavors of the Slurpees. Though, the Slurpee flavors were definitely on the pro side of the list, right below Slim Jims, nachos, and hot-dogs. No, the various snacking foods were not the reason Stiles dropped in every day at precisely 3:00 in the afternoon,  no one, Stiles thought to himself, likes 7-Eleven nachos so much that they need to eat them everyday. Even though Stiles knew it was Derek Hale with Miguel's name-tag, he still called him 7-Eleven Guy, because who needed to know that his newest ~~crush~~ obsession was Beacon Hills' very hot, Derek Hale. No one, no one needed to know. Stiles refused to tell anyone about his obsession with Derek Hale, and told them instead about his obsession with 7-Eleven Guy; everything was much easier--and much less humiliating--that way.

 

The day after his birthday, Stiles jogged up to Scott just as at the first bell rang, “Scotty boy, I’m eighteen now, and do you know what that means?” 

 

“I’m sure if I don’t know, Stiles, you’ll tell me.”

 

Stiles slung one long arm over his best friend’s shoulders while his other arm clutched the single backpack strap slung over his shoulder. “It means, Scott, that I can ask out 7-Eleven Guy and not be jail bait.” 

 

“What even makes you think he’d be interested?” Stiles jumped when Allison and Lydia came up behind them. 

 

“Please, Lydia.” Stiles huffed at his friend, “Just because you didn’t take the chance to get all up in this when you had the chance, doesn’t mean 7-Eleven Guy won’t.”

 

Stiles was so busy daydreaming about Derek and his beautiful pale green eyes, it did not even faze him when Lydia smacked him in the back of the head and called him an idiot. 

 

Throughout the day, Stiles rambled about how he would ask Derek out on a date. Like any loyal friend, Scott remained listening and giving his input until idea 100, which included Stiles tangoing down the aisles dressed in a black tuxedo with a red rose clutched in his teeth. 

 

“Stiles, that might be a little too ridiculous for 7-Eleven Guy’s tastes.” 

 

Jackson snorted over his sandwich, “And having the band play ‘Somebody to Love’ while Stiles does his best Freddie Mercury impression wasn’t ridiculous?” Everyone stopped rolling their eyes and took the chance to look at Jackson with their eyes wide and mouths slightly open. “What?” cried Jackson.

 

“Dude,” said Stiles smirking, “That was like number 98, have you been listening to me this entire time?”

 

Jackson scoffed and did _not_ blush—not even a little bit—when he said, “Of course not. Why would I listen to all 101 of your stupid ideas?”

 

“He’s only on 100.” corrected Scott.

 

“Actually,” came Lydia’s voice from next to Jackson, “if you count the one that Scott blocked out because Stiles mentioned lube, condoms, and a bright pink vibrator, then it’s 101 ideas.”

 

“Scott, I think the world just ended. Jackson just listened to me more than you listened to me.” 

 

The lunch table remained completely quiet until Danny, the very logical and lovable Danny said, “Let’s never mention this again.” Not surprisingly, Jackson, Stiles and Scott were the most in favor of that idea.

 

As Scott and Stiles walked to the 7-Eleven from the school, Stiles broke the confidence building silence, “So I think I’m gonna go with idea 35b.”

 

“Which one was that one again?” 

 

“Go in, buy a Slim Jim and ask him out. Then when he says yes, smile.”

 

“What if he says no?”

 

“He won’t say no, Scott.”

 

It took them another five minutes to get to the 7-Eleven. Once there, Stiles clapped Scott on the shoulders with both hands and said, “Wish me luck.”

 

“Good Luck.” Scott responded, his hands coming up to clap Stiles on the shoulders in a show of both best friendship and solidarity.

 

The bell over the glass door tinkled and Derek looked up from the magazine he was staring at, a scowl on his face. Stiles stretched his lips into a smile and waved. Derek did nothing but bring his eyebrows down to match his scowl and return his gaze to the magazine on the counter. Stiles took a deep breath and started heading in the direction of the counter, but lost his nerve and, at the last second, sidestepped around the counter and headed in the general direction of the Slurpee machine. He filled a small cup with the Mountain Dew Blue Shock flavor, and stared forlornly at the radioactive blue slush that was pouring out of the machine. “You can do this, Stilinski.” he muttered to himself, “If Scott can get Allison, and Boyd can get Erica, and Jackson can get Lydia, you can get Derek.” He shut off the machine and grabbed a lid. “What would Finstock say if he could see how pathetic you are being. ‘Stilinski, way to chicken out. You told everybody you would ask him out. Now do it. Or I’ll make you run suicides.’ Fuck, I hate running suicides.” He shuddered at the thought of extra suicides at lacrosse practice. “Right. Okay. You can do this.” He nodded once to himself and strode with purpose, with his Slurpee, to the counter. Derek looked up from his magazine, startled as Stiles slammed the Slurpee down on the counter.  

 

Derek’s surprise turned into a bored scowl as he said, “That’ll be $2.50.”

 

Stiles pulled out his wallet as seductively as an eighteen-year-old virgin could, “So what time do you get off?”

 

Derek stared at him, one eyebrow raised in a condescending question. “Why would you want to know?”

 

“I was just thinking we could get together after you’re done here, and maybe get some food.” 

 

Derek stared at Stiles, eyes wide. "No way."

 

Stiles’s smile did not dim at all at the blunt rejection, mainly because he had not heard it. Stiles’s father, the Sheriff, liked to refer to Stiles as having selective hearing. He heard what he wanted, when he wanted and God help anyone who did not know that. Derek, of course, did not know that Stiles had selective hearing, and was not prepared when Stiles’s smile stretched wider, nodded to the three dollars on the counter told Derek he’d see him later and to keep the change and waltzed out the door, Slurpee straw in his mouth. Apparently, God was not feeling all that helpful that day.

 

Outside, Stiles turned to Scott and said, “I deviated from the plan, but I’ll see him later after work!”

 

“Good job, buddy!”

 

Stiles, figuring that Derek got off at 6:30, got to the corner of the 7-Eleven at 6:20. He stood there and tugged at the cuffs of his red and black plaid flannel, which he’d left unbuttoned over his white v-neck shirt. His black skinny jeans were Lydia approved, in fact, his whole outfit was Allison decided and Lydia approved. They had called it hipster-lumberjack-chic, whatever the hell that was. When the clocked ticked to 6:35, Stiles glanced around, head swiveling, and figured that Derek had to work a little bit over. At 7, he went over the conversation in his head, “Yeah, meet me on the corner. I’ll wear my leather jacket, and maybe a henley. We’ll go to the diner, we can hold hands, and maybe a kiss. Who knows? Maybe we’ll be together forever. Maybe you’ll make me happy and I’ll stop scowling all the time.” At 7:30, Stiles started to think that maybe something bad had happened to Derek. At 8 Stiles was anxious, at 8:30 he started making excuses for Derek. At 9, he sighed and ran a hand through his carefully gelled hair. At 9:30, his phone started ringing, a glance at the screen told him that his dad was calling him. At 9:45, Stiles gave up and went home to watch TV, and maybe do some research.

 

At school the next day, Scott asked him how the date was, and Stiles just looked at him sadly, “I think he forgot. I mean, it was a little last minute.”

 

Scott just stared at the floor, “Yeah. He probably just forgot.” The awkward silence that fell between the friends signaled to the both of them that the conversation was over and to change the topic. After a few seconds Scott glanced up and said, “So…. Jackson is a dick.”

 

Stiles just snorted and started in on his “Jackson is the biggest dick on this side of reality” rant, and Scott, being the best friend that he was, just let Stiles go on and on.

 

At lunch, when Jackson asked about the date with 7-Eleven Guy, Scott swooped to the rescue, “His dog got sick and he couldn’t make it. They rescheduled for tonight.”  

 

Jackson just looked pityingly at Stiles, “His dog didn’t actually get sick. He probably doesn’t even have a dog. He probably started to leave and saw you standing there and snuck out the back to get away from you.”

 

Lydia smacked Jackson and Jackson did _not_ —not even a little bit—wince. “Stiles,” Lydia leaned in, “his dog definitely was sick. You looked way too hot yesterday to actually stand up.”

 

Stiles smiled and that was all the thank you Lydia needed. 

 

After school, Scott and Stiles made their way to the 7-Eleven again, and Scott reminded Stiles to follow the plan.

 

“So,” Stiles was leaning against the counter as seductively as he could. The sleeves of this black hoodie were pushed up to reveal his forearms and he knew that he looked good in his dark blue v-neck.  “I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go out tonight after you got off work.” 

 

“The Slim Jim is a dollar.” replied Derek, his voice bored.

 

“Oh, yeah, right.” Stiles pulled a dollar from his wallet and handed it to Derek. “So, what do you say to the date?”

 

Derek furrowed his eyebrows, then raised one while the other was still furrowed, if Stiles was not so nervous about the whole date thing, he would have been impressed by the eyebrow moving talent Derek seemed to possess. “Not if every other man on this earth were dead.”

 

Again, Stiles’s selective hearing rose its ugly head, and he heard Derek say, “Sure. I’ll meet you on the corner. Wear something pretty and we might get around to holding hands and kissing. You may be the best thing that has happened to me today.” Then, Stiles could have sworn that Derek had smiled. Derek did not, in fact, smile. His face was much more puzzled than the previous day because Stiles had given him a five instead of a one, and had walked away whistling and swinging his Slim Jim like it was a cane and he was some tap dancer from an old musical. 

 

That night, Stiles stood on the corner until 7. Derek did not show up.

 

The next morning Scott did not get a rant about how Jackson was the biggest asshole on this side of reality, no Derek had officially stolen the throne from Jackson. His hissed statement that Derek was “an assholic douchebag with a history of acting like a motherfucker” was accompanied by the slamming of his locker door. At lunch, the only person who mentioned Derek was Stiles, if you could call Stiles muttering “asshole”, “dickbag”, “douchenozzle”, “fucker”, “7-Eleven Dickwad”, and “epic frowny assholic dickface” mentioning Derek. 

 

Stiles made his way to the 7-Eleven by himself and threw open the door. Derek was startled out of staring off into space. Stiles marched up to the counter and slammed his palms onto the somewhat sticky counter. He leaned in, his face was flushed in anger, eyes narrowed and burning brown. Stiles did not even take a chance to glance around at the store, if he had he would have seen a woman with dark brown hair and pale green eyes with a name-tag labeling her as “Laura” staring in rapt interest. 

 

“Listen, fucker,” Stiles’s voice hard, and it slammed into Derek, “beauty is only skin deep. It’s what is inside that counts.” Stiles poked Derek in the chest with a long index finger. “And frankly, your inside fucking sucks. You are rude, cranky, and you don’t smile nearly enough.” Derek nodded, his eyes wide and staring at Stiles as he continued, “I am beautiful on the inside, and attractive enough on the outside. Usually, you find out about the inside stuff on the first date, but since you keep standing me up, I guess we have to do it like this, asshole.”

 

Derek nodded. Stiles calmed and continued, his voice not as hard, face not as flushed, “I like to take long walks in the Preserve, curly fries, researching random shit, horrible, low budget horror movies, reading books about any subject really, and one day, I’m going to travel and write about all the strange things I see, and all the cultures I learn about. I like the idea of finding a way to make you laugh or smile everyday. I am willing to dance like a fool to make you happy or try to sing like Freddie Mercury just to make you roll your eyes, but smile anyway. I like coming here everyday and buying Slim Jims and hot-dogs because they are slightly phallic and drive you crazy when I try to fit whole ones in my mouth. I like how when you frown all it makes me want to do is make you smile. And maybe, maybe if you had actually said yes to any of our dates, you would have found this out over curly fries and milkshakes, but instead—”

 

Stiles was cut off when Derek lunged forward and threw his hand over Stiles’s mouth. “Shut the fuck up.” Stiles’s eyes went wide and the fire inside them died, “I get off at 6:15. Meet me on the corner, don’t wear layers, if you get cold I can lend you, _only_ you, my leather jacket. We won’t hold hands, but maybe I’ll give you a goodnight kiss.” Derek leaned in, and took his hand off Stiles’s mouth.  One side of Derek’s mouth quirked up in an odd, almost shy smile, “We’ll have to wait and see if you’re the best thing that’s happened to me.”

 

That night when Derek met Stiles on the corner, Derek threw his leather jacket over Stiles’s shoulders, and said fuck it to his previous rules. He grabbed Stiles’s hand and drew him in for a kiss. 


	2. Grumpy Derek and the Slim Jim Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slim Stiles and the 7-Eleven Guy, only this time it is from Derek's point of view. Which means we get to see all the reasons Derek turns down Stiles in that fic. 
> 
> Stiles's POV is crackier whereas Derek's POV is angstier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some fairly disturbing nightmares that Derek has (Stiles is sick/beaten/has his teeth fall out). 
> 
> Not beta'd at all, so mistakes are mine (concrit is totally welcome). Also, if you see problems or anything I should add warnings for, don't hesitate to tell me. 
> 
> I kind of just wrote this because I promised a while ago I would do Derek's POV and it really wasn't that hard to do. 
> 
> Comments and kudos help me fill the hole that the end of Season 3 left.

There were specific reasons Derek Hale did not mind taking the absolute worst shift at the local 7-Eleven. For seven hours every Monday through Friday Derek stood behind the greasy, gross counter and was hit on by all kinds of unsavory characters. There were the unshowered, unshaven truckers who ended up driving through town at one o’clock in the afternoon. He got the hobos who were wasting their money on scratchers that would never work out well. He got the cream of the unsavory crop of Beacon Hills, the crazies no one ever saw or knew existed. He did not work these hours to save his sister from having to interact with the crazies; Laura, Derek knew, could take care of herself. No, the reason Derek worked from 11 am to 6:15pm every Monday through Friday was not the unsavory regulars, it was the crazy regular who came in every weekday at 3:00 in the afternoon. 

 

Derek, of course, knew his name because not only was he supremely observant when it came to the store, but he was also born and raised in Beacon Hills. Thus, he knew Sheriff Stilinski and the hyperactive ball of brown hair, pale skin, and moles that was his son. Not to mention that Derek had gone to high school with Stiles, they were, after all, only two years apart in age. But Derek did not like to think about Stiles Stilinski and what Derek’s ex-girlfriend had done to Stiles and his friends in their sophomore year of high school, so he just called him Slim Jim Guy. Mainly because the way he ate Slim Jims was on Derek’s list of top ten hottest things ever. 

 

Derek’s day had not really started off that well. At the very beginning of his shift some drunk idiot had spilled an ice cold Slurpee all over his best uniform. And let us be honest for a second here folks, those 7-Eleven uniforms are extremely unfortunate. So Derek had had to grab an old one from the back and it smelled faintly of pot and B.O. to which Derek’s nose was extremely sensitive. Then, when he had been changing his shirt, Laura had switched out his name badge for an old one. Customers had been asking him for hours when he had changed his name from Derek to Miguel. Laura was amused, Derek was not.

 

Derek did not normally like talking and conversing with people. The only time when he had not been surly was when he had been best friends with Paige, and that ended in a spectacularly horrible shit show of angst. Things had gotten a little better when he had started to date Jennifer just before senior year and then through most of that year. Then, Derek had left the basketball team, and begun a poetry club on campus, and that was seen as rather uncool of him. So his girlfriend of almost an entire year had dumped him and gone on to more popular people. But not before she had gotten a couple of final jabs about Paige and his rather grumpy demeanor. 

 

That day, with his horrible shirt on that was giving him a headache, and memories of Paige and Jennifer jumping around his head, was of course the day that Stiles turned eighteen. Derek, however, did not know that Stiles was turning eighteen, though he probably should have guessed it. The Sheriff had come in previous day near the end of his shift to sneak in a Twinkie that Stiles should definitely never know about. So on the day that Stiles turned eighteen, Derek was having a supremely horrible day. Fate, he decided, was totally, 100% against him in every way possible. 

Stiles had walked in, smiling and looking confident and, damn, if that wasn’t  great look on him, Derek didn’t know what was. But, instead of smiling back like a normal, well-adjusted human being would have, Derek just kind of furrowed his eyebrows and scowled in Stiles’s general direction. Later in life, Derek would think how luck he was that Stiles seemed to like the general scowling. In that 7-Eleven, on that day, however, Derek did not think that he was incredibly lucky, he instead thought himself extremely unlucky because he was, well nearly halfway in love with someone who seemed completely and utterly wrong for him. 

 

After Derek had scowled at Stiles, he directed his gaze downward and just stared at his magazine. The words and voices of Paige and Jennifer were bouncing around.

 

“Derek, you frown too much.” That was Jennifer. It was getting easier to turn her away.

 

“You’re hot but you’re not hot enough to suffer through humiliation for.” Derek winced at that. 

 

“Derek, I’ve been sleeping with Ralph for like, months.” 

 

“Derek, write me a love poem.”

 

“Derek, you aren’t good for anything.”

 

“Derek I can’t continue to date you because you don’t offer anything to me anymore. You used to be popular and now you’re not.” Derek gritted his teeth and pushed her away. He kept his breath steady. 

 

“I know you’ll always be here for me.” Derek’s breath whooshed out of him. There was Paige.

 

“We’ll be best friends forever, right Derek?”

 

“My head hurts so much.” Tears leapt to Derek’s eyes, but he continued to stare at the magazine. He closed his eyes and counted to five, breathing deeply in and out. Inhale. Exhale. 

 

He flipped a page of the magazine without reading it. Then a Slurpee was slammed on the counter and Derek startled. His eyes met Stiles’ eyes. Stiles was smiling and it made Derek very aware of what his own mouth was doing, which was not smiling. Derek’s frown sunk even deeper into his face. “That’ll be $2.50.”

 

Stiles’s hand slithered to the pocket of his tight jeans, “So what time do you get off?”

 

Derek raised an eyebrow, _why? You would never be interested in me._ “Why would you want to know?”

 

“I was just thinking we could get together after you’re done here, and maybe get some food.”

Derek scoffed, let his eyes trail up Stiles’s body, pausing ever so briefly at his hips, then his neck, then his smile. His goddamn smile. What would Derek give to be able to have that smile. He found himself wanting to say yes so badly. But then he heard Jennifer, ‘You are embarrassing.’ And suddenly he found himself saying, “No chance. No way.” 

 

Derek half expected Stiles’s smile to dim, but that smile, that goddamn smile never faltered. He just nodded and turned, slurping at his Slurpee the whole way. Which, shit, that was number five on Derek’s list of top ten hottest things ever. 

 

After Stiles had left Laura came over and smacked him in the head, “What the hell was that, Derek? He could be so great for you.”

 

Derek just nodded, knowingly. “I know. But I could be so horrible for him.”

 

“You won’t break him, Derek.” Derek did’t respond with words, he just shook his head and turned back to his magazine. 

 

Derek ended up leaving a little late that night and he saw a figure waiting on the corner. He knew, in his gut that it was Stiles. He was dressed in a red and black flannel that made Derek want to just curl up and watch a documentary about Paul Bunyan. But the black skinny jeans made Derek want to do things that were on Derek’s list of  ‘Ten Things That Are Only Physically Possible If It’s a Porn/If Both Participants Are Professional Gymnasts.’  

 

Derek had started walking toward Stiles, but then a voice at the back of his head whispered, “We could break him so easily. One misplaced word, scowl, phrase, or joke. You’re going to break him Derek. Then he’ll never smile for anyone like that ever again.” Derek shook his head, trying to dislodge the voice. “He’ll leave you too Derek. They all will. There is no reason for them to stay, Derek. And even if they do, what happens when you get older. If you stop exercising? What will you have to offer? Nothing.” Derek stopped and heard that word again, “Nothing. You have nothing. You are nothing. Nothing.” Derek let his glance fall upon Stiles who was looking down at his watch, then he turned around, got into his car, and drove home.

 

The next day was even worse. Derek had had nightmares the night before. Jennifer and Paige were running circles around him chanting ‘nothing’ and ‘you are an embarrassment.’ Eventually the women had disappeared, leaving him alone in a dark room. Then Stiles had appeared; his face was bloody, bruised, battered. His voice was hoarse from screaming, and he held his right arm close to the body, it was broken. Stiles gestured Derek closer, closer, and closer. 

 

When Stiles’s lips were right next to Derek’s ear, he had whispered, “Do you see me Derek? I’m broken. You’ve broken me.” 

 

Then Derek was in a hospital room, and Stiles was laying, prone and pale. Derek turned to the nurse, it was Jennifer. “He’s never going to wake up.” 

Derek turned to Stiles and tried to hold his hand, but the hand was cold. Then it began to rot. Derek turned back to Jennifer.

 

“Go home, Derek. No one wants you here. You did this. You broke him.” 

 

Then Sheriff Stilinski came charging into the hospital room. He collapsed at his son’s bedside. Derek began screaming for Stiles to wake up. He tried to shake him, but Stiles remained pale and prone on the hospital bed. Derek looked at Stiles’s face, cracked lips, and dark circles under his eyes. “Wake up, Stiles.” Derek screamed at Stiles. Derek spun away from the bed and pulled at his hair. He rushed out of the hospital room. Then he was back in the kitchen with his mother and father. 

 

“No,” he whispered to himself, he knew how this would end. His mother got up from the table and made her way to his side. 

 

“Stiles had a seizure last night around 12:30, and then early this morning, he—”

 

“NO!” Derek screamed. “This is a dream. It has to be a dream. Stiles wasn’t even sick.”

 

Then his father got up and started whispering, “But you broke him Derek. You broke him.”

 

Derek had wrenched himself from the dream, and stared at the clock, 12:31 am. He stared at the clock then tried to go back to sleep. He went to close his eyes, but when he did he saw the image of Stiles in the hospital bed, pale and expressionless. He shot back up and refused to try sleeping again.

 

Because of Derek’s nightmares, he had gotten only a few hours of sleep, as a result he went through the day even blearier than the day before. The entirety of the day passed Derek in a blur, and he was surprised when Stiles leaned against the counter. The black sleeves of his hoodie were pulled up to his elbows and gave Derek a nice long look at Stiles’ long fingered hands, and pale, lithe forearms—numbers 3 and 9 on his ‘top ten hottest things ever’ list.

 

As a result of Stiles shamelessly showing of numbers 3 and 9, Derek completely missed whatever had been coming out of Stiles’s mouth. “The Slim Jim is a dollar.” _Really,_ he thought, _is that the best you can come up with? Idiot._

 

“Oh, yeah, right.” Stiles pulled a dollar from his wallet and handed it to Derek. “So, what do you say to the date?”

 

Derek thought back to the previous day and to his nightmare. Rationally, Derek knew that his dream was just that, a dream, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from imagining Stiles in that hospital bed. His eyebrows furrowed and did a jig across his face until he responded, “Not if every other man on this earth were dead.”

Stiles’s smile did not dim, it got even brighter and he walked away, swinging his Slim Jim as if it was a cane and he was a dancer in a musical singing about love.

 

That night, when Derek left, he did not pause to look for Stiles, and he most definitely did not look at the corner in an attempt to see Stiles just one more time before going to bed.

 

That night, instead of Stiles in being in a coma, his eyes had fluttered open, but they were dull. The brown was flat and he refused to smile. When Stiles did open his mouth, his teeth were blackened and rotting. Instinctively, Derek flinched back. 

 

Then Stiles croaked, “Where’re you going, Derek? Are you leaving me? After all, you did this to me.” Then Stiles began to hack and cough. The coughs shook and rattled his shoulders, forcing him to bend over. Stiles looked up, and he looked as he had that day. His eyes were shining, and he looked healthy, but he continued to cough. Then, with every cough that wracked his body, one black tooth fell out of his mouth and landed in his cupped palms. Each black tooth was covered in blood and saliva. Tooth after tooth fell out and eventually Stiles looked up, blood running out of his mouth, “What did you do to me?”

 

Derek swallowed, “I broke you.”

 

For a second, the dream world was silent, then the toothless Stiles smiled and said, “D’you think you could stay until you’ve fixed me, then?”

 

Then a chair appeared next to Stiles’s bed and Derek sat down slowly. He grabbed Stiles’s hand and said, “I can try.” Stiles nodded, smiled one last smile and went back to sleep. This time around when Derek woke up, he felt prepared for the day.

 

Derek anxiously waited for three o’clock to roll around so he could see Stiles and hopefully apologize for the way he had been acting. The minutes were ticking by like they were hours, and the hours were ticking by like they were years. In the lull of regular crazies, Derek began planning his speech. “Stiles, I know I’ve been kind of a horrible person lately, but… Shit that sounds like an excuse.” He paused and started over, “Stiles, I am a massive dick and I have literally no idea why you want to ask me out. I’m mean, and gruff and I have serious issues when it comes to my own self-esteem… Fuck Derek. That’s a great idea. Start off with all the reasons he should hate me and say no.” He rubbed a hand over his face and stubble, “Stiles, I know I don’t deserve another chance with you, but if you could give me another chance… Fuck. Way to make more excuses for yourself Hale.” Derek stopped and thought for a second. “He’s eighteen now. Maybe if I just get on my knees and offer him a ‘forgive me for being a dick to you’ blow job, he’ll just forget all about it.” 

 

Laura must have heard him because she leaned in and said, “There he is now.Why don’t you ask him?” 

 

Horrified, Derek turned around to see Stiles slamming open the glass doors to the 7-Eleven. Derek had barely enough time to think, _Damn, Stiles looks really hot when he’s all angry and flushed like that,_ before Stiles started yelling. 

 

“Listen, fucker,” Stiles’s voice was hard, and it slammed into Derek, “beauty is only skin deep. It’s what is inside that counts.” Stiles poked Derek in the chest with a long index finger. “And frankly, your inside fucking sucks. You are rude, cranky, and you don’t smile nearly enough.” Derek nodded, his eyes wide, he tried to whisper, “I know. I don’t deserve you” but he could find neither the air nor the strength to say the words. 

 

Stiles continued, “I am beautiful on the inside, and attractive enough on the outside. Usually, you find out about the inside stuff on the first date, but since you keep standing me up, I guess we have to do it like this, asshole.”

 

Derek nodded. Stiles let out a breath and continued, “I like to take long walks in the Preserve, curly fries, researching random shit, horrible, low budget horror movies, reading books about any subject really, and one day, I’m going to travel and write about all the strange things I see, and all the cultures I learn about. I like the idea of finding a way to make you laugh or smile everyday. I am willing to dance like a fool to make you happy or try to sing like Freddie Mercury just to make you rolls your eyes, but smile anyway. I like coming here every day and buying Slim Jims and hot-dogs because they are slightly phallic and drive you crazy when I tr to fit whole ones in my mouth. I like how when you frown all it makes me want to do is make you smile. And maybe, maybe if you had actually said yes to any of our dates, you would have found this out over curly fries and milkshakes, but instead—”

 

Derek lunged forward and threw his hand over Stiles’s mouth. There was so much he wanted to say to Stiles, so many things he needed to apologize for, so many things to explain and so many fears that had kept him from doing this. Derek had no plan for Stiles, he was unprecedented, and in that instant Derek knew he would never be able to predict Stiles, and that he would probably spend the rest of his life doing all those things with Stiles. With a sudden stroke of genius, Derek knew what he needed to say to Stiles.

 

“Shut the fuck up.” Stiles’ eyes went wide, “I get off at 6:15. Meet me on the corner, don’t wear layers, if you get cold I can lend you, _only_ you, my leather jacket. We won’t hold hands, but maybe I’ll give you a goodnight kiss.” Derek leaned in, and took his hand off Stiles’s mouth. Derek felt himself smile, one of his first smiles in so long Derek was a little surprised that he even knew how to do it anymore. “We’ll have to wait and see if you’re the best thing that’s happened to me.”

 

After Stiles had left, Laura had approached the counter, “‘We’ll have to wait and see if you’re the best thing that’s happened to me.’ D’you really have to wait Derek?”

 

Derek let a smile stretch across his entire face, and Laura gasped. It had been years since he had smiled like that. “Of course I don’t have to wait. I know he’s the best thing that’s happened to me. But we’ll just keep him in suspense.” Then he winked and began to wipe down the corner. 

 

When he chuckled at the way Laura walked from the counter, dazed at his cheerful demeanor, Laura tripped and went to call their mother immediately.

 

That night, when Derek met Stiles on the corner, Derek threw his leather jacket over Stiles’ shoulders, and drew Stiles in for a kiss. As he kissed Stiles’s smile, Derek felt an answering one bloom across his face, and it was the best thing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I recently started a multi-chaptered Teen Wolf fic, that will be at least 20 chapters at its end, so this 'verse is officially on hiatus. I will, however, return to it this summer because I do have some great ideas for it. I just got hit by an inspiration bug. 
> 
> If, however, you want more of my writing on a more regular basis, check out the multi-chaptered fic because it's Sterek, and it's being updated weekly. (The One with the Stolen Hat, because I love FRIENDS and that's how I title a whole bunch of my fics.)

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick update, I have several epilogue chapters in the outlining/first draft stage. One will deal with the always horrible Kate, one is a 5 times +1 trope, and the last one is a kid fic. I also have a prequel jumping around in my head for Derek, and maybe a version of this fic from Derek's POV. 
> 
> Update 2/26: Okay, so this fic is an epic work in progress. I wanted to get a couple of the other chapters written so I have a cushion. I will try to get the prequel for Derek posted by the end of the weekend, 3/2. I am so sorry, life and college started trying to show me who was "the boss."


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